


The Long Way Round (Love Potion No. 9 Remix)

by qwerty



Category: Merlin (BBC)
Genre: Love Potion/Spell, M/M, Remix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-08
Updated: 2010-10-08
Packaged: 2017-10-12 12:56:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/125047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/qwerty/pseuds/qwerty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"A love potion?" Merlin asked, curiosity piqued.</p><p>"All nonsense," Gaius said dismissively as he ladled out a bowl of porridge for Merlin. "It would have induced a mild feeling of dizziness and well-being for a few hours, nothing more." Merlin picked up the small vial and unstopped it; the smell reminded him vaguely of honey-wine and angry ferret at the same time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Long Way Round (Love Potion No. 9 Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tetsubinatu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tetsubinatu/gifts).
  * Inspired by [The Long Way Round](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/1611) by tetsubinatu. 



As long as a month afterwards, Annet said to Merlin, "Know that when I see these daisies in your scarf, I will think of you, lying in a field of wildflowers as I ride your cock..."

"Oh, what a huge bee!" Merlin blurted, flinging his hand up in the approximate direction of her hair. A quick thought raised a loud buzz by her ear, making her shriek and duck while he ran for the dubious safety of Arthur's chambers just down the hallway.

He barely missed colliding with a sleep-rumpled and confused Arthur just inside the door, grabbed Arthur's arm and hissed, "I'm not here," before skidding behind the cupboard, peering out fearfully. Arthur blinked at him, clearly torn between asking if Merlin had lost what few wits he had left and demanding his breakfast immediately, then the knock came and Arthur opened the door without thinking, only to find Annet on the other side looking startled and embarrassed to be confronted with the Prince in person.

"I, I only wanted to give, flowers, Merlin, my lord!" she babbled, turning redder and redder with every word, and finally thrust the fistful of daisies at Arthur and fled in tears. Merlin could almost feel sorry for her, if only he hadn't been so relieved.

Arthur frowned at the battered-looking daisies, half bowing over his hand and half crushed over his nightshirt. "Will my breakfast be making an appearance anytime this morning?"

"I, erm, I'll just be going to fetch it now," Merlin said, and sidled out. He had to take the long way round to the kitchens to avoid running into Annet again, and remembered halfway to divert his path again to avoid the mews and Aistan's small, mealy apples that he had probably nicked from the treat bags for the stables. The last one Aistan had given him had made Arthur's favourite hunting palfrey fall asleep on its feet for nearly an hour.

The worst part of everything was how unreasonably normal everyone acted afterwards, like they didn't think they had done anything out of the ordinary. Which was true, to an extent. Annet had always given him a few flowers from the huge armful she gathered every day to garnish the various lords' and ladies' chambers before The Accident, and Aistan always pressed sugar and apples on him, and even a stale mince pie once. But even after the dragon had assured him that everything was back to normal, nobody seemed to feel anything had been amiss about their sudden and terrifying forwardness, and indeed, as Annet had just demonstrated, some of them even persisted in their unnatural behaviour. It played tricks on Merlin's mind and made him doubt every interaction he had ever had with anyone in the castle.

Damn that ridiculous potion. It wasn't supposed to have effects like this.

He had stumbled blearily from his room that fateful morning to find Gaius talking quietly and sternly with one of the chambermaids - Ysane, he thought her name was. She had been weeping piteously, and he'd felt bad immediately when she looked up and, seeing him, ran out of the room humiliated.

"A love potion," Gaius said sagely. "A foolish thing to risk execution for, I told her. The King does not take even the suggestion of magic lightly."

"A love potion?" Merlin asked, curiosity piqued.

"All nonsense," Gaius said dismissively as he ladled out a bowl of porridge for Merlin. "It would have induced a mild feeling of dizziness and well-being for a few hours, nothing more." Merlin picked up the small vial and unstopped it; the smell reminded him vaguely of honey-wine and angry ferret at the same time.

He'd tipped the vial just a little too far - a drop fell out and onto his hand. It felt strange on his skin, warm and fizzy. Gaius turned around and glared at him, and he hastily put the potion back on the table, trying to look innocent.

"Let me see that," Gaius said, setting down the porridge and taking his hand to examine the white drop slowly turning pink on his skin. Merlin was about to protest when Gaius's grip tightened, and his thumb began to rub circles on Merlin's hand around the drop. "Have I ever told you what a special young man you are," asked Gaius in a meaningful tone of voice. His eyebrow raised in a somehow suggestive manner. Merlin blanched.

Merlin yanked his hand free and stood up. "I'm going to see the dragon," he announced, and beat a hasty retreat as quickly as he could without running.

He wiped off the drop on his shirt as he hurried downwards to the dragon's prison, and found himself accosted by no less than half a dozen importunate suitors along the way, including Decima the cook, who offered him all the chicken he could eat and attempted to smother him in her ample bosom, and Osgar the steward in charge of something Merlin had never figured out tried to pull him into a room, only to fended off gallantly by Sir Gareth, who promised he would meet Merlin in the armory later (never if Merlin could help it). He ran like a man possessed when King Uther paused all the way at the other end of the hallway and stared at him, and decided he would rather take the long way around Morgana's rooms and encounter more people than face the possibility of affecting Gwen or Morgana, and finally reached the dragon more than a little winded and _dishevelled_.

For once, the dragon was perched on the ledge patiently waiting for him. "Young warlock," it murmured in greeting.

"Help," Merlin said, at a loss for how to put his predicament into words that a _dragon_ would understand.

The dragon made a sound that might have been a purr. "How small you are, and yet how like me." It bent its great head down, too close. "How terrible your destiny. We are both the last of our kinds, bound together in fear and secrecy..." Merlin was nearly knocked down by a wall of dead-goat smell. "Free me, young warlock, and let us leave this place together." Merlin stumbled as he took a step back, and looked down to see that the dragon had curved its tail around him possessively.

"What, I, NO. Tell me how to make it stop," he begged and scrabbled backwards in panic, but the dragon was already drawing away, its amused rumble thrumming all through Merlin's body.

"As with all things, it is always best to start with a clean slate," the dragon called down as it soared into the darkest recesses of the cavern.

"Clean," muttered Merlin, lightheaded with relief. "I can take a bath." He staggered up the stairs into the arms of one of the dragon's guards.

Who had fortunately convinced himself that Merlin had come down not to visit the dragon, but for love of him. Bodwine, as Merlin discovered the man was called, had seen him lurking about in the vicinity far too often for the reason to be anything else, for what sane person would willingly seek out the Great Dragon? He was touched, he was most deeply moved, he wanted - Merlin begged off with an imaginary errand of utmost urgency from Arthur and fled.

Merlin dared not imagine entering the crowded town to wash at the pump. Instead, he slipped away into the forest and found a stream, immersing himself, clothes and all, shame-faced while a deer, two rabbits and a fox watched and far too many birds sang at him. When they finally dispersed, he decided he was clean enough and returned to the palace, where everyone appeared to have returned to normal, as far as he could tell.

Except for the odd outbreak of warm feeling, like Annet's. No one seemed to have forgotten what had happened, exactly, but why hadn't they seemed to feel that anything out of the ordinary had taken place? As Decima ruffled his hair lingeringly and added an extra apple and slice of ham to Arthur's plate for him to sustain himself on the arduous journey up to the Prince's chambers, Merlin reflected that he should be very grateful that Arthur had been out on a patrol when The Accident took place and didn't come back until well after everyone had mostly stopped... doing what they did. What would he have done if, instead of pushing him out for "extra training" as an excuse to chase him around and smack his arse with the flat of his sword, Arthur had- Merlin didn't think he could have faced Arthur afterwards even, especially, if Arthur...

He should be grateful.

He wasn't.

Arthur being Arthur, when everyone else has recovered from the side-effects of The Accident and started being nice to Merlin in a normal way instead of nice in a "Let's get your breeches off right now" way, is of course the exact time he chooses to start acting _ab_ normally.

Foremost and most disconcerting among Arthur's unnatural new quirks being his failure to shut down Merlin when he began prattling on about something or another. This invariably caused Merlin to stutter in confused embarrassment for a heartbeat every time he realised he was talking about something that should make Arthur roll his eyes and make some biting remark, then Merlin's mouth would run away with him while he tried to grope for something safe and appropriate.

Something that was definitely not how supposedly chaste Sir Edward kept being seen slipping from innocent Lady Mirabell's chambers, or how all the servants were giggling over the titbit that Lady Edgida liked being spanked, especially since she had thrown a hairbrush at poor Mary when she accidentally caught the lady engaging in this very act with her paramour, who was very, very fortunately not Merlin. Arthur listened to him until his eyes were practically glazed over, and took absolutely no action on even the worst of the revelations. Eventually Merlin managed to regain control of his tongue without having to snatch bits off Arthur's plate to stop himself.

Which was another disturbing development. Arthur had always guarded his plate jealously even before the unicorn-induced famine, but he was making no move whatsoever to stop Merlin's blatant pilferage, and instead spent his time picking at what had always been his favourites while staring at Merlin and occasionally licking his lips absently. If it was an attempt to make Merlin feel guilty, it was uncharacteristically subtle and definitely not going to work, because the cooks sent Arthur ridiculous amounts of really excellent hams and cheeses and fruits, nothing at all like the vile soups and tasteless porridges Gaius deigned to share with Merlin. In fact, Merlin made a point of moaning over a really amazing peach and licking its sweet, sticky juices off his hands and wrists, just to spite Arthur, and still Arthur said nothing, though he was obviously dying to do so, fidgeting in his seat and shredding a hunk of bread into crumbs while flushing at odd moments.

Merlin was beginning to suspect an illness, or even a curse. Perhaps Arthur was lovestruck once more? He did commit terrifyingly stupid acts when magically besotted. Merlin tried to enquire discreetly of Gaius what had become of the rest of the potion, and received a dire warning to under no circumstances ever mention the thing again, because Gaius had mixed it in the strongest spirits he had and set it alight, and bundled up the ashes in a sack and burnt it again for good measure, then scattered the ashes deep in the woods far from any known water source and scrubbed everything the smoke had come in contact with three times.

Thus reassured, Merlin then tried to check if Gwen had heard any rumours of anyone else trying to use love potions, but she was too distracted and giggly over Morgana's latest dream, which was for once far from being a nightmare, apparently, though she refused to tell him what it was about. Possibly Morgana was love-struck as well, no matter her angry protestations at Lord Wystan's having taken to serenading Morgana at her window instead. It was rare to see Morgana so carefree and pleased, and Merlin made a note not to let her know Lord Wystan had been singing the exact same song under _Merlin_ 's window only a week ago, only changing "blue eyes" to "green", and adding "long curls" to "lovely black hair".

Neither Arthur nor Morgana were being anything like normal. Were they perhaps... Merlin tried to shake the idea from his head, but just about everyone who wasn't Arthur or Morgana or Gwen, or strangely enough, Gaius, seemed to think they had _potential_. He was strong and handsome; she was beautiful and intelligent; together, they would no doubt make a formidable royal couple against whom few could stand.

Gwen was quite fiercely pooh-pooh-ing this notion when they came upon Urie and his daughter in an alcove. Betta was sobbing brokenly, and Urie looked too pale and shaken to be of much help to her. "Baron Egbart has sacked me," Urie said to Gwen. "It truly isn't your fault, Betta," he tried to insist, but she only cried harder.

Merlin liked Urie. The man was gentle and patient, and one of the only ones to not completely and embarrassingly lose his head over The Accident, letting Merlin go with no more than a kindly squeeze to his shoulder and a suggestion that Merlin and Betta would be good for each other, to which Betta had blushingly objected before hiding behind her father. Even through the magical haze of the love potion, it had been clear Betta and Sir Corwen were inseparable, just more open to Merlin's... participation. But all the gossiping servants had expected only that the Baron would take his son in hand rather than act against loyal Urie so harshly.

"To turn them out without a reference after so many years of service!" Gwen repeated, shuddering, when they had left Urie and Betta some way behind them. "He served Baron Egbart before he served Sir Corwen. It would be like King Uther sacking Gaius, or Morgana sacking me."

Or Arthur sacking him, Merlin thought momentarily, before it occurred to him Arthur might have _cause_. His _magic_.

Funny how hard he found it to drop Urie's tale of woe into light conversation with Arthur when he had already said so many more utterly inappropriate things to Arthur before. Arthur's being so quietly helpful was yet another disturbing sign of how much the prince had changed. Merlin dared not ask what dilemma Arthur was wrestling in his distracted silences and thoughtful looks when he did not realise Merlin was looking back at him.

Fall, with its bounty of feasts and festivals, brought with it new gossip and baseless rumours, in particular the blatant untruth that Merlin had the Prince's favour. "Throwing his dirty breeches at my head is favour?" he demanded indignantly, to the ridiculous titters of the kitchen maids as they piled cakes and sweetmeats onto Arthur's tray. Just to prove them wrong, he picked out Arthur's favourite honey cake from the tray and made sure Arthur saw him finishing off the last few bites as he entered the room. Arthur only stared at the sticky crumbs clinging to Merlin's fingers and around his mouth and said nothing, and everything only became more awkward from then.

As the days shortened and grew colder, Merlin spent more and more time toasting himself in Arthur's much warmer and less draughty rooms in defiance of the gossiping servants, who would insist on something going on between him and Arthur.

"I think it's time you moved in here with me for the winter," said Arthur casually, and Merlin choked and went blank. Arthur said some more things.

Merlin heard himself agreeing with Arthur while he pushed the sausages around with his fork, then the instant he left Arthur, he blurted out, "Arthur wants me in his bed," on running into Gwen outside Morgana's rooms, whereupon she ducked back inside and had a private giggling fit with Morgana. "Gwen! It's not like that!"

The trouble was, Merlin had been very careful to avoid thinking of Arthur that way, because it could only lead to disaster, but Gwen and Morgana's utterly foolish giggling seemed to give weight to the idea, and it was all he could think about. In the end, instead of presenting Arthur's very reasonable explanation to Gaius over cold leftover porridge, Merlin said, "I'm going to share Arthur's bed." And thumped his head down on the table.

Gaius carefully crushed the bitter-smelling panax root with his pestle and raised an eyebrow at him. Merlin decided that any further attempt to speak more words would only result in unspeakable humiliation and quietly went to his room to pack.

"Love does strange things," Morgana told Merlin when he delivered a sleeping draught from Gaius after moving his things to Arthur's rooms. She still dreamt, still wore exhausted bruises beneath her eyes, but there was a sparkle of amusement and mischief to her direct look that reminded Merlin of how she had been when they first met, before the Questing Beast seemed to break more than her composure. "It's good for Arthur, that overbearing, stiff-necked fool." The idea gave Merlin an odd pang he explored carefully, prodding it carefully as he tried to decide how he felt about it.

Arthur loved him. Wanted him. There had been no magic to confuse the issue. And he loved, wanted Arthur back. This truth filled him with a wild, reckless excitement. He stopped outside Arthur's door, paused to even his breaths, and stepped in.


End file.
